Light of Eternity
by Cymoril Avalon
Summary: When Dark Malik offered the spirit of the Ring a socalled present, the entity expected betrayal. What he found instead was something he'd been yearning for for centuries. Yamishipping AU.


Disclaimer: I do not own Yugioh, nor any characters held within. This is simply a story and I am seeking no money in return for my work. Unless, of course, you'd like to make a donation...

Author's Note: This is a giftfic for Daimeryan Rei of her favorite pairing: Dark YuugiXDark MalikXDark Bakura, otherwise known as Yamishipping. This is an AU, quite obviously, and a one-shot. This will not be continued. Please, be kind and leave a review, and as always, criticism, if nicely worded, is welcome.

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"I have a present for you."

The spirit of the Ring eyed Dark Malik warily, well aware of the connotations of such a comment, especially given the volatile boy's reputation.

"What sort of present?"

The Egyptian giggled. "Oh, believe me, it's one you will _love_."

Dark Bakura seriously doubted that, but it wasn't as if he had anything better to do. Besides, whatever surprise the Egyptian had lined up might wind up being mildly interesting, and Dark Bakura rather needed something to pass the time. Still, he twitched, not wanting to be led around by the nose quite so easily.

"Where is it?" He tried to keep his voice bored, unconcerned, but some curiosity managed to leak through. That irked him as well; usually, he was an excellent actor.

Dark Malik's grin was downright disturbing. "It's in a special place, where we won't be bothered."

Anyone else would have been alarmed at such a comment. As it was, the spirit idly touched the Ring hanging around his neck, as if in warning. The two of them had proven almost equals the last time their Items had gone head to head, but Dark Bakura had only been playing, far more interested in participating in a Yami no Game and taking the other's Rod away.

Not to mention quieting the irritating voice of Malik.

He also hadn't bothered drawing on the power of the Eye, an Item which was still in his possession. He would have preferred having even more, but if this did turn out to be some unfortunate game of Dark Malik's, then he might just walk away one Item richer. That, at least, would make this worth his while, especially considering he hadn't planned on leaving his host's apartment at all that day. However, there was still the matter of Dark Malik's wording...

"Oi, oi! Don't take that the wrong way." He made a soothing gesture which only wound up looking menacing. "You know that if I planned you ill, I wouldn't bother with any elaborate setups."

That much was true. The spirit idly thought that Dark Malik lacked the intelligence to do any such thing, but it would have hardly been prudent to voice as such. Besides, he felt properly confident that worse come to worst, he would be able to adequately defend himself, and if he couldn't...well, death had never been permanent for him, only a momentary setback. Currently, he could afford a few of those, frustrating though they were. In light of new developments, the Pharaoh had made no move to head to Egypt, so they were currently at a stalemate.

A very boring stalemate at that.

"Fine," he replied shortly. "Take Me to this...present." And just to reassure himself, he surreptitiously slipped a hand into his pocket, feeling the soothing hilt of his pocketknife. If the Egyptian even thought about trying anything...

Well, that might end up like their last encounter, naked and panting and entwined together, but that was nothing a little inclusion of violence couldn't improve. Dark Bakura did wonder what the other would look like covered in his own blood. Though it still irked him that he hadn't even had a chance to draw his blade, what the Egyptian had done had more than soothed his ruffled feathers; however, he didn't entirely forgive himself for such a glaring mistake. He wouldn't be so unaware this time.

Cackling, Dark Malik turned and headed away, not bothering to ensure that the spirit was following. Feeling more than a little irritated and wondering if he should simply let the boy take over control of the body and wander away, he nonetheless followed after the Egyptian, trailing like a puppy and hating every second of it. This had better be worth it.

After passing an untold number of buildings, each growing more dilapidated and run down, suspicion began to gnaw again. Not that it was never present to begin with; trust was a foolish thing that would get one killed. However, the further away from human habitation they moved, the more Dark Bakura began to wonder what was going on.

Had he underestimated the man? Ever since he'd completely destroyed his lighter personality after the Battle City finals - he still didn't know how the lunatic had returned after losing a Yami no Game and having his soul destroyed; Dark Bakura had been under the impression that only he could survive such things - he'd been even more unstable than he remembered. However, he'd still never shown any intelligent tendencies...

His thoughts dispursed as they paused in front of a building. It was in better shape than the others, though that wasn't really saying much. The paint was still peeling, the sidewalk was cracked, and the front door looked as if it would fall off its hinges at any moment. The fading light caught a broken sign hanging above the door, the words long since wiped away by age and weather. A sour stench exuded from a nearby alley, and Dark Bakura felt rather curious as to what was inside of it; perhaps corpses, perhaps just garbage, perhaps more interesting things than Dark Malik could offer him. He always did enjoy a good corpse.

Tanned fingers caressed a key before inserting it into the door, turning it with a little bit of force as if the lock did not want to be moved. The door eventually swung open, revealing a rather dusty and unimpressive interior. There was no light, but that had never bothered either of them; darkness was their home, their comfort, their salvation.

If beings as such could ever be saved.

All manner of play fled from Dark Malik as he entered the building, his gaze sweeping around curiously. He glanced back at the spirit once, twice, lavender eyes glittering with excitement. This was going to be fun, he just knew it, after collecting all those toys and going through so much trouble securing the very special present...

Oh yes. This would be _fun_.

Dark Bakura, however, wasn't so certain. While saner people would have been at least nervous in that building, if not outright scared and thinking about what sorts of supernatural beings could be hiding around every corner, he was bored. Locations such as this did not amuse him; there was no finesse, no style, and thus, to him, no point. Only a mild curiosity kept him from turning around and leaving out of pure disgust; he should have known Dark Malik would be unable to secure a decent area for any sort of entertainment.

Up creaking stairs they went, the elevator long since out of order and likely no longer even in existence. Two, three, four floors they ascended before they could go no higher; the building was smaller on the inside than it appeared on the outside. That was mildly intriguing, at least, even though the spirit knew it was simply a matter of perception. There was nothing abnormal going on with the building, else he'd have felt it.

A few lights sputtered along the hallway, revealing moth-eaten carpeting that had once been a rather intriguing reddish color; as it was now, it looked like spilled blood splattered with rust. Bits and pieces of antiquated wallpaper remained on the walls in haphazard locations, as if someone had run down and torn it at random out of anger. The whole area felt tight, as if the walls were trying to close in on the two, swallow them up and integrate them into the rest of the building.

Now that was an intriguing idea.

The door Dark Malik stopped at was nondescript, perhaps in somewhat better shape than the others but otherwise no different, save for the massive lock installed on the outside. That made the spirits eyebrows raise; what did the Egyptian need to keep in that room so badly that he installed an extra lock on the door? Perhaps this would be more interesting than he'd expected.

The jingling of keys shifted his attention to the Egyptian's hands, watching as the slender fingers sifted through a brass ring of keys before settling on one. What the others were for was a mystery, though Dark Bakura couldn't say he especially cared. Lock opened, Dark Malik took a step back, affecting a mocking bow.

"You should do the honors," he said with another grin. "It is, after all, your present."

Wariness returned in full force, and the Ring flared briefly as the spirit approached the door, glancing over at the Egyptian as if expecting some sort of betrayal. The Egyptian only fixed him with a blank stare, those pupil-less eyes brimming over with insane glee.

A hand as pale as milk reached out, spider-like fingers wrapping around the knob and turning it, giving the door a gentle push.

The room inside clearly did not belong in that building. It was modern, well kept, well lit, as if it were an apartment in an upscale development downtown. The walls were freshly painted a dark blue with cream trim, the windows were heavily curtained, and the furniture that he could see in what he presumed was the living area were brand new and obviously barely used.

However, it was the person laying on the couch, bound and gagged, that stole his gaze. Wide, frightened eyes, a deep amethyst red-rimmed from tears, stared over at them with poorly hidden hatred.

"Ou-sama," he breathed, dark eyes growing wide. His grin then mirrored Dark Malik's as he cackled, stepping further into the apartment and flexing his fingers. "Indeed, this is a wondrous gift." His blade would taste flesh after all.

The Sennen Puzzle hung around Dark Yuugi's neck, catching the light enticingly, more arousing to the spirit than the fact that the Pharaoh was clad only in his black leather pants. Portions of his skin were cut and bruised, a motley of green and purple and other odd colors, showing that Dark Malik had already enjoyed some time alone with him. That didn't bother Dark Bakura in the least; the Pharaoh was here, bound, helpless, and his.

Theirs.

The door closed, and Dark Malik leaned back against it, an amused expression on his face. "Just remember," he said as he fixed his gaze on Dark Yuugi, "we both get to play."

"Of course," the spirit murmured absently as he approached the Pharaoh, staring down at him for several moments without moving, eyes scanning his face as if searching for something.

He wasn't broken; there was still defiance in his eyes. Good. Dark Malik had left him plenty to play with.

Reaching down and ignoring the way Dark Yuugi tried to flinch away from his touch, he lifted his chin, almost tenderly, though there was a certain mocking to his touch. "We're going to have lots of fun together, ou-sama," he breathed, leaning in close. "I've been waiting for this for centuries." The fingers of his other hand caressed the Pharaoh's cheek, taking special care not to press too hard over the bruises, skirting around them and teasing his skin. Deftly undoing the gag and throwing it away, Dark Yuugi began to respond angrily, no doubt preparing a long-winded speech about righteousness and good and friendship and all the things that the spirit loathed.

Not wanting to hear any of it, he silenced him with a hard kiss, barely keeping himself from laughing. Finally, after all this time, his ancient foe was in his hands, just waiting to be torn apart and patched back together. Not even the Egyptian's hand on his hip distracted him from his glee; after all, when there was torture involved, and without a doubt, other delicious things, the more, the merrier.


End file.
